


The Prince and the Punk

by MadMothMadame



Series: Friends are the Family You Choose [1]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis, 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files
Genre: AND TENNIS, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gen, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one still in these two fandoms, This is one hundred percent self-indulgent, Yusuke Urameshi is a punk, Yusuke has a potty mouth, and no one will convince me otherwise, and so is Ryoma, because why not, my crossover brain hates me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMothMadame/pseuds/MadMothMadame
Summary: Yusuke Urameshi was having a normal day, until he ended up at a tennis tournament by mistake. The brat playing doesn't make the sport seem half bad, kinda like a fight. And Yusuke likes fights.Wherein Yusuke Urameshi and Ryoma Echizen meet, and become friends?Or at least as close as either one of them gets.





	The Prince and the Punk

**Author's Note:**

> So, I fully expect no one to read these, but the idea has been rattling around for years. I have, like, eight parts written, so I thought I'd post a few in case there is anyone out there who would be into reading these, because they are just sitting in my google docs. Waiting.

It was Friday, and Yusuke Urameshi was skipping school for the fifth time this week. 

This in and of itself wasn't unusual. School was boring, the teachers were annoying, and it was way too nice a day to waste it sitting in some shitty classroom. Besides, it was practically already the weekend.

Deciding where to go was turning out to be unusually irritating. He tried the arcade, but his pocket change was running short after the last two days spent there. 

His next choice would have been the park, but that annoying police officer who had nothing better to do than hassle law-abiding(ish) citizens for truancy or some bullshit, was lurking under Yusuke’s favorite tree, so there was out.

With each place crossed off, Yusuke kept walking to try and quench the restless itch under his skin. 

Goddammit. He hated not having something to do nearly as much as he hated school. Maybe he should go back to school and cause some trouble? 

But then Keiko would be mad. And he already knew he’d pissed her off by skipping three days in a row. Especially after she tried to drag him to class by the ear this morning. 

That fake ear was the best thing he’d ever won from the arcade. Dead useful. 

But still, he should probably steer clear of the girl for a while. Let her cool off. 

What he really wanted was a fight, but all his favorite rivals actually went to class, the suckers. And while he could go pick a fight with some of the lowlifes that hung around downtown, they fought dirty, and knife wounds were no fun for anyone.

Sighing, Yusuke tucked his hands into his jacket pocket and plopped down onto a bench. 

At a loss, he looked up at the bright blue sky, watching the clouds trawling by. 

He kind of wished he had just stayed home, or at least doubled back once the coast was clear. 

Sure, he wasn’t missing the stench of stale beer and old takeout that was waiting for him to do something about it, but at least he could have watched some TV or something…

Something niggled in the back of his mind.

Someone was watching him. 

Yusuke opened an eye, scanning the street. 

There. Two alleys over. Unless Yusuke was mistaken, that was the loser he had hustled for 10,000 yen two weeks ago. 

It wasn't Yusuke’s fault the guy had been too stupid to see that the other guy’s punches barely bothered Yusuke and kept raising the stakes. Yusuke had made good money off everyone that day; nearly enough for rent. There was no need to be embarrassed. Still from the weight of that guy's glare, you would think that he had taken it personal. If he didn't have the money to spare, he shouldn't have wasted it betting against a fourteen year old.

Oh look, Yusuke thought grimly as the guy was joined by four other guys. He’s got friends.

Now, less than an hour ago, he was spoiling for a fight. But not one like this. He’d bet everything he won off that loser that least one of those guys was carrying a knife, and five to one odds were a bit low, even for him. 

Sigh. And it had been such a nice day.

He heaved himself off the bench and started walking. 

It may have been the middle of the day, but this wasn’t a very populated area. He could easily get grabbed and dragged off somewhere quiet if he wasn't careful. 

He stuck as close to the road as he could, away from the allies. 

But the tickle at the back of his neck didn’t go away. 

He could hear the quiet whispers and rushed footsteps as the group stalking him split up. 

When a few moments later, the guy coming around the corner ahead of him tried to grab him, he was completely unsurprised. 

What amatures. 

Yusuke batted the loser’s hands away easily, added a solid right hook for good measure, and smiled when the guy hit the pavement.

He continued on his way, unbothered. Served him right.

But the rushed footsteps from the loser’s other friends turned to shouts and ‘get him!’s. 

He thought about turning and facing them. His blood was throbbing in his ears. 

The distinctive shink of several switchblades flipping open, kept him moving. 

Someone smarter might’ve started running. 

Never let it be said the Yusuke was a coward, though. Or smart about the fights he picked. The thought of racing off didn’t even cross his mind. 

The knife slid past his arm. He kicked the man staggering by him in the back. Keeping his hands in his pockets, smiling brightly as the adrenaline flooded his veins. 

Even with the knives, the loser’s friends clearly weren’t any better at fighting than he was. 

It took Yusuke less than three minutes before they were all on the ground. 

He surveyed the older men, and scoffed. “Seriously, man,” he addressed the loser, only just now picking himself off the pavement and looking like he had another concussion. “If you can’t afford the bet, don’t make it.” 

“You punk!” the man scowled, spitting out a tooth. “You cheated!” 

“Yeah,” Yusuke rolled his eyes. “Five of you assholes, with knives, and I’m the one who’s cheated. Come back when you’ve learned how to fight for real, loser.”

“Hey! You!” 

Yusuke turned to look. It was his least favorite truancy cop. Must’ve followed him from the park. 

“Stop!” 

Yusuke took off. 

No matter what anyone said, the police were never good news for Yusuke. 

“Come back here, you!” the man called.

“Don’t you have something better to do, old man?”

He ducked and dodged, picking as random a route as possible, but he couldn’t shake the guy. 

He turned the corner. There a wooded area around a bunch of tennis courts. Best part was, there was a bunch of people mingling around, like some event was wrapping up.

He hopped the fence surrounding the park with a vaulting leap. His pursuer cursed and skidded to a stop on the other side of the fence. It jangle loudly as the policeman wasn't able to stop in time.

Yusuke smirked as he stood from the crouch he'd landed in. He waved a middle finger over his shoulder at the man and disappeared into the trees. 

He shed his jacket for good measure, pulled out his sunglasses, and tousled his hair. 

That should be enough for a while anyway. 

The main courts were bustling, so Yusuke steered clear of them. He wasn't sure if there was an entrance fee or something. The last thing he needed was to get flagged by security, in case the cop decided a truancy charge, or assault, was worth following him in here.

He could just cut across and go out the other side, but he was in here now. He might as well take a look around and see what all the fuss was about. 

Tennis had never been something he’d been interested in, but Yusuke was curious by nature, and figured it, like anything else, might be better if he understood the rules.

But no one wanted to talk while the match was going on, and there was only so much hostility and disdain Yusuke could take (he didn’t like feeling stupid) before he sulked off. Besides, the bleachers were uncomfortably hot after the bare metal had been baking in the sun all day. 

What was so interesting about two people hitting a ball back and forth? They weren’t even hitting it that hard. And what kind of sport let you just stand in one spot and wack things at people anyway, and badly at that. Most couldn’t even keep it in the lines. 

A few minutes watching long, drawn out volleys back and forth, confirmed just how boring it was. It was like some of these kids weren’t even trying. Seriously. Who could get winded running back and forth in a line? They got plenty of breaks between rounds. 

Yusuke was feeling bored again. This was, without a doubt, the largest tennis facility Yusuke had ever had the dubious pleasure of visiting. He decided to just pick a direction and hope for the best.

He was about to give up and hop the fence anyway when a young girl screamed.

Yusuke’s eyes found her in a heartbeat, and assessed the situation just as quickly. Just down the path from where he was walking were two kids sitting on a bench, the girl hiding her face in her hands. She seemed fine, if startled. 

It was the boy who was in trouble. Another, much older teenager, was swinging his racket towards the boy’s head like it was a baton. 

He stopped just before he struck the much younger boy across the face. 

The guy holding the racket was dressed in athletic clothes, a pretentious polo and colored shorts. He had two friends flanking him and closing off some of the escape routes. His friends were in some of the nicer school uniforms, more of the Western style than Yusuke’s school, which likely meant they were all from the wealthier side of town. They all had the too long boy band hair to prove it too. They were also far closer to his own age than that of the boy and girl on the bench.

He’d bet any money that those assholes all had glass jaws. (Anyone who felt like they needed to pick on kids half their size was automatically an asshole in Yusuke’s book.) Especially, if they felt the need to swing a racket to prove how tough they were.

The boy, to his credit, didn’t even flinch. Not when the racket was in motion, not when it stopped. He just stared the asshole down like a seasoned cage fighter playing with his prey.

Yusuke considered for a moment, wading in and drawing the older boy’s attention to himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he taught some prep-boys a lesson in manners, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but… this wasn’t his fight. And, as a rule, Yusuke didn’t interfere with other people’s fights.

Besides, it looked like the assholes were leaving. Yusuke let them go, keeping an eye out for dirty tricks.

“Hey!” said the boy, getting up to retrieve a can from the middle of the sidewalk. “Remember that grip?”

Yusuke wondered where this was going as he scratched his ear.

“What?” the asshole turned back.

The boy threw the can perfectly into the trash before turning back to face the asshole. He touched his hat and smiled the same kind of smile Yusuke gave Kuwabara before he put him in the dirt. “If you like, I’ll teach you some tennis.” 

The lead asshole called the boy a bastard, but ultimately acquiesced. “Bastard. Fine. Let’s do this!”

Yusuke stretched and sat up to watch the mismatched group head into the court they were right next to, which was incredibly convenient. It meant Yusuke didn’t even have to move from his spot, just roll over a bit.

This wasn’t exactly the kind of fight he was used to, but it would do in a pinch.

Besides, he could always punch the asshole later.

“Sasabe, you’ve still got a match to play!” one of the asshole’s friends tried to scold him. “Are you sure about this?”

“It’s the perfect warm-up for my match!” said Sasabe-teme.

“Geez, you never listen to anyone!” his other lackey bemoaned. But they both laughed at him like it was a joke.

Meanwhile, the younger boy was lacing up his shoes while his girlfriend fretted at him. They were too far away for Yusuke to hear what they were saying, but he could guess it was a lot like what Keiko usually said to him before he got into a fight. The boy seemed to be listening about as well as Yusuke usually did, he saw with a smirk.

He gave the girl his jacket to hold though, which was sweet, as he walked over to his side of the court, his racket behind his back in the same kind of cocky strut that Yusuke liked to rock right before he knocked someone flat.

“Best of one-set match. Sasabe, service play,” one of the lackeys announced. Yusuke frowned at all the foreign sounding words. He had no idea what any of that meant, but it sounded like rules to him.

“We don’t need any judges,” Sasabe called to the kid. “We’ll judge ourselves, okay?”

Yusuke snorted. Of course they would, so the asshole could cheat whenever he needed to. Classy.

But the kid seemed to agree with it without a problem.

The asshole was apparently too cocky about his own skills to read the body language of his opponent, because he started trying to demean the boy. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a little handicap. Here!” he tossed the ball into the air. “I’ll serve under-handed.”

Even Kuwabara could’ve hit that ball on the way down, and he was an idiot.

The kid certainly wasn’t an idiot. He sliced the ball back to the other side of the court without even having to move. It nearly hit the asshole’s foot.

“Get serious!” the boy complained while his opponent gaped at him.

The asshole’s asshole friend gave out the score, “Love-fifteen,” whatever that meant.

Sasabe started sweating, but tried to play it off. “Oops… I got a little careless.”

Yusuke tensed when an adult, a much older woman, probably his grandmother’s age if he had one, came onto the court and spoke with the girl.

Adults and fights like this usually meant bad news.

But she didn’t seem interested in stopping it, despite her granddaughter’s insistence that she do so, so Yusuke ignored her.

Adults were so useless.

“Hey, Sasabe, I think you’d better wrap this up already,” said one of his friends.

“Shut up! Anybody can return an underhand serve!” Sasabe protested.

“That’s how it is…” said the kid, and Yusuke couldn’t see it, but he knew the smirk was there. “People make excuses like that when they lose.”

“Brat! Don’t get too scared!” Sasabe snapped, flinging his whole body behind his serve this time.

“Damn! It’s Sasabe’s bullet serve!” his friend cried, astonished.

But the boy was already there, meeting the supposed bullet head on. “Too slow!” he cried, whacking it back to Sasabe’s side of the net.

Yusuke smiled. The brat was fast.

Sasabe seemed surprised the kid had hit it, but managed to get to the ball in time to whack it back over to the boy’s side. It was lacking the speed and finesse of the boy’s hit, but at least that made it a bit more interesting.

Fights that were over in a few hits were boring, after all.

But the reality of the match was setting in. The kid was far faster than the asshole was, and better at getting the ball to go where he wanted it.

Yusuke still didn’t know the first thing about tennis, but he even he could tell that the boy returning all of the teenager’s serves was a good start to the match. It looked like shorty was going to hold his own after all.

“Love-thirty,” the asshole’s asshole friend said when the kid had won the point.

“I know what the score is!” Sasabe shouted at his friend. “Don’t call it out each time!”

The old lady was talking, something about the boy being a tennis genius or something. But Yusuke was too busy watching the match (and too far away) to hear what exactly she was saying.

He didn’t really get it, but watching someone completely in their element was always interesting. The boy was good. He was playing circles around Sasabe. It made quite the picture, since the boy was about half Sasabe’s size.

When it was the kid’s turn to serve, the ball flew across the court and back out of it before Sasabe could even move.

Yusuke figured the match was pretty much over then and there, in the kid’s favor. 

There was something cathartic about an asshole being put in his place.

The kid certainly wasn’t pulling any punches either. Between every serve, he bounced the ball, staring down at it intently. As a scare tactic, Yusuke rated it pretty sound. Sasabe looked like he was ready to shit his pants.

The asshole, not out of it yet, decided to use his height and added reach as an advantage. With him at the net, it was harder for the kid to get the ball around him without it coming right back to his side. The asshole got in a few points, but the kid quickly assessed the weakness in that strategy and sent the ball high over the asshole’s head, landing the ball in the back of the asshole’s court. It dropped right before the line. Even Yusuke had to admit, it was impressive.

The asshole didn’t seem to understand that his strategy had been countered and tried the same trick again with the same result.

“Yes! That’s another one,” said the girl from the sidelines.

“Out!” Sasabe called even as he rubbed at the spot where the ball had stained the court with his foot. 

Even from all the way over here, Yusuke could see that the ball had clearly been in. 

The kid, who had been heading back to the back line, turned to stare down the older boy, incredulous. 

“Too bad, it was so close!” the asshole mocked, holding his fingers up in a pinching motion, as though the kid had missed by inches. 

Yusuke hated it when he was right sometimes. Cheaters were the worst. What was the point of lying about losing? It just made you look like an even bigger asshole, and fooled absolutely noone. 

The girl seemed to think so too. “Huh! No way! That ball was clearly in!”

“Forget it,” said the old lady. “This is a self-judged game. He has the right to call anything on his own court.”

Yusuke scoffed.

“That means…” the girl trailed off in despair. 

“Yep. All shots near the line will be called out. That means he can’t hit deep shots anymore,” the old lady confirmed.

But she was soon proved wrong.

The game went on. The ball went back and forth, from one to the other and back, but something about the energy had changed. It was almost like watching a fight. 

Yusuke saw it the moment before it happened. The boy hit the ball short, luring the asshole forward. Sasabe obediently ran up and hit the ball hard down to the other side, a large grin on his face like he’d won. But the kid was fast. He got to it and hit it back.

Yusuke wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but something in how the boy hit the ball seemed different this time. Weird somehow.

“Idiot,” called Sasabe, “As long as I’m calling it, all baseline shots will be out!” 

Which was just stupid, really, announcing to everyone that he had to cheat to beat a grade-schooler. 

When it landed, the ball spun itself into the ground, staying perfectly where it landed without bouncing at all. Just inside the line.

Yusuke could feel himself gaping. He didn’t even know you could do that with a ball.

“What happened?” the girl asked, mirroring Yusuke’s thoughts exactly. 

“He's good!” the old lady cried, “He added a slice to the lob that allowed the ball to stop before the line.”

Yusuke was still trying to figure out what the hell that meant when the kid called out “Hey,” in the most condescending tone Yusuke had ever heard from anyone other than himself. “Was that in?”

He looked at the kid feeling like he was seeing him anew. Yeah, he got the genius thing.

After that it was pretty much over. 

What followed was one of the most thorough beatdowns not involving fists that Yusuke had ever seen. He didn't even know you could whoop ass playing tennis for fuck's sake, but that little brat was certainly doing it. The other guy could barely catch anything before it blew by him, and when he could catch one, the kid didn't give an inch. Just sent the older boy racing to the other end of the court in a futile attempt to catch the perfectly placed ball before it flew out.

The score kept climbing. Yusuke didn't have the slightest idea what the numbers meant, or how high they were playing to, but he had nowhere to be. The kid was brutal. 

Sasabe couldn’t cheat, and he couldn’t win.

So, he played dirty. 

Yusuke saw the moment the thought entered Sasabe’s mind. The asshole was midleap after yet another ball that was going to sail over his head when he saw the boy on the field and hurled his metal racket at him, striking the boy across the face.

Yusuke leapt to his feet, shouting, “Hey!”

The kid crumpled, cradling his face. Yusuke could see blood dripping between his fingers to stain the court. He might’ve been blinded by the stupid asshole who was already gloating, 

“Oops, I’m sorry. The racked just slipped!”

Sasabe picked up the blood stained racket, smiling at the kid he’d just struck across the face.

Yusuke was at the fence before he even realized he was moving. “Hey, asshole!” he called in to the court. “Where do you think you get off, trying to blind the kid, huh! Try picking on someone your own size!”

Sasabe flinched and stared at Yusuke, who gave him his best come-get-me grin.

Rage was not unfamiliar to Yusuke. He lived with it, thrived on it. It was the constant companion that got him out of bed in the morning when his mother had spent their money on booze and the rent needed paid and groceries needed bought. 

This felt a little different though. Usually, Yusuke was pissed at circumstances beyond his control. It had been a long time since he felt fury on someone else's behalf.

The girl was next to the kid, a handkerchief in hand, shouting, “Ryoma-kun, are you alright?”

But he pushed her away. “Don’t come on the court during a game.”

“And you, old lady! Aren’t you going to do anything?” Yusuke shouted at the grandma who hadn’t moved at all.

“Don’t interfere,” she said, glaring at him like he was the delinquent here. Which, he was, but at least he didn’t hit grade-schoolers.

“Adults,” Yusuke grumbled. “All fucking useless. Hey, kid!” he shouted. “You alright?”

The kid didn’t even seem to hear him, but he stood up and faced down the asshole who’d just hit him in the face with his racket, and had the balls to say, “Your grip is too soft.” He stared down his older, considerably larger opponent without fear. “Mada mada dane.” 

Yusuke found himself grinning. He liked this kid. 

The boy picked up his racket and got back into serving position.

He pulled a new ball out of his pocket, and bounced it a few times like he did before every serve he made. But something was different this time. Something was more menacing about the way he was bouncing the ball than it had been before. He threw up the ball, jumped, and managed to hit it at the exact moment he reached the apex of his jump.

The ball was doing that weird wobble it had done when it spun around on the ground, but this time, instead of sticking to the court, the ball bounced up and zipped right by the assholes’ face before hitting the fence behind him hard enough to shake the whole panel of the chain-link.

“15-love,” the kid said blandly. As though Sasabe wasn’t shitting himself in fear. He pulled out a new ball (where was he getting them all?) and bounced it once more before serving it again.  
This time the ball didn't fly over the assholes shoulder. This time it hit him square in the nose.

The force was enough to whip Sasabe’s head back. 

Yusuke hoped hit hurt as much as it looked like it had.

“Twist serve?” one of Sasabe’s friends said incredulously. “Was that the twist serve?”  
But Yusuke didn't pay him any attention. He was focused solely on the kid in front of him, casually bouncing a tennis ball as if the blood from his head wound wasn't staining his shirt.

“30-love,” the kid said, and served.

Another direct hit, to the cheek, this time hard enough to send the older boy to his knees.

“40-love.” 

Yusuke couldn’t stop grinning. This was almost better than watching a championship fight.  
The kid bounced the ball one last time, and held it in front of his face. “This is it!” he announced. The ball looked like a weapon in his hand as he glared through the blood on his face. 

Sasabe fell to the ground. “Stop!” he begged.

The ball flew high into the air, coming down gently nowhere near the older boy.

“Moron,” the boy teased, as patronizing as Sasabe had been at the beginning of the game, clearly as amused by the pathetic spectacle in front of him as Yusuke was.

“Game and set. Won by Echizen,” one of the sidekicks announced. 

“Sakuno,” the old lady crowed to her granddaughter. “Ryoma won.”

“Amazing! He actually won!” the girl answered.

“That’s ridiculous,” interrupted Sasabe, finding his feet. “I let him win!” He protested, forgetting that he’d just been on the floor begging for mercy. Who was he kidding? “One more set and I can-!”

“Sasabe, you’re being a poor loser,” his friend, who might not be too much of an asshole after all, scolded. 

“Just admit that you lost,” the other chimed in. 

“I don’t mind playing another set,” said the kid, also seeming to have forgotten that he’d started this round with a racket to the face. He looked different, somehow… 

“Don’t you get it?” said the old lady. “Give it up already. You stubborn fool, you can’t beat Ryoma Echizen, no matter how many times you try.”

Ryoma Echizen, huh? The kid had a good name. 

“What’re you saying, old lady!” Sasabe sneered.

“He’s left-handed.”

And true enough, Ryoma was in position to serve the ball, with his racket in his left hand.

“No way,” said Yusuke, realizing that the kid had played the entire game, with all those fancy hits with his non-dominant hand. He smiled. That was pretty badass.

Ryoma served the ball, hitting it at the apex of his jump perfectly once more. It flew twice as fast as any he’d hit with his right-hand. Before Sasabe could even blink the ball landed right between his legs and bounced back to hit the chain link fence. Yusuke was crap at judging speed, but it looked to be going really fast.

Sasabe fell backwards, stumbling over his own feet, and hit the ground screaming. “I quit!” he said as he scrambled from the court, his friends on his heels. 

Where they ran right into Yusuke. 

“What the-” he started but was interrupted by Yusuke’s fist.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Yusuke said loudly with the same kind of grin Sasabe had given the kid on the court. “My hand must’ve slipped.”

He kicked Sasabe in the gut. “Whoops, my foot must have slipped as well!”

He heard vaguely the complains of Sasabe’s cheerleader friends, but they shut up under the weight of Yusuke’s glare. 

Resting his foot on Sasabe’s face, he ground it into the pavement, hoping the pain would make his message stick.

“Like I said, next time you wanna bully someone, pick on someone your own size,” he said, before letting the other boy up. Sasabe tried to run, and Yusuke kicked him in the ass as he went by.

“And that's for lying, you fucking cheater!” he called as Sasabe scampered away. “Good luck on your next match!” he called after him, smiling. He’d really like to see how the asshole explained away the bruises on his face. Bullying a grade-schooler and then losing to him, probably wouldn’t get him the best response. 

But at least the itch that had been bothering Yusuke all day was gone, he thought, shaking out his hand. It didn’t really hurt, he’d hit too many people for it to hurt much anymore, especially when they weren’t ready for it, or hitting back. 

Man, that felt good.

The asshole’s two friends were still here, just staring at him, so Yusuke raised a fist in warning.

“What? You want some too?” he asked. He was willing to give them pass because at least they’d told the asshole off, but he was more than happy to go a few more rounds if they were so inclined. 

“N-no no!” one of them stammered as the other said, “I-it’s fine! We get it!”

Yusuke glared, carefully making sure they actually did get the message. They looked sincere enough, so Yusuke let them leave with a sneer and a tilt of his head.

They scampered by. Yusuke watched them go, feeling just a little disappointed that they hadn't put up a better fight.

“Hey!” the old woman called from behind him. Yusuke looked over his shoulder at her, bemused that she was actually trying to scold him. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Teaching them a lesson. What's it to you?” he said back. He hated adults on principle, but hypocritical bossy adults fell even higher on his Fuck Off List™.

“There was no need to get so violent!”

“How is it that the guy who chucks a metal racket at a kid, hard enough to break the skin gets a pass, but I hit a guy with a closed fist and somehow I’m the bad guy?” Yusuke asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Give me a freaking break.” 

“That was in the middle of the game,” the old woman snapped, still glaring at Yusuke.

“Like that makes it better!” he replied before dismissing her completely. She was just like everyone else, who decided when there were rules and how they applied arbitrarily, but inevitably so they screwed Yusuke over. 

He noticed the kid was still on the court, clutching his racket. “Hey, kid. You okay?” he asked instead of arguing more with the hag.

The kid stared at him. He had cat sharp eyes, a gold tinted hazel green, big on his skinny face, and hair that was just a bit too long. The effect was mostly ruined by the blood though.

After a minute of sizing him up, which Yusuke bore with amusement, the kid nodded, before wiping his forehead on the shoulder of his shirt. 

The bleeding had slowed, but the cut was still leaking down his face.

In Yusuke’s professional opinion, it was probably a shallow cut. It only bled so much because all head wounds bleed like a bitch. 

The impact had probably left a bruise that would hurt a lot more than the cut in the following days.

Just to be sure though, Yusuke walked over to the kid and tipped his hat back, ignoring the affronted look as he examined the injury. 

“Hey!” the kid, Echizen, cried in indignation and the invasion of his personal space and knocked Yusuke’s hands away. 

Yusuke let him, satisfied. He had seen enough head wounds on himself that he knew from a glance that this one was not as serious as it could have been. By some luck, the racket had completely missed the kid’s eyes, and merely punctured his forehead.

As he suspected, the cut itself was small but jagged, caused more by the skin bursting under pressure than by anything sharp. The reddening skin around it would turn colorful in a few days and once the adrenalin wore off, the kid would have a killer headache. 

Yusuke stepped back, giving the kid a bit of breathing room.

“Guy really walloped you. You seeing stars or anything?” Yusuke asked.

“No,” Echizen replied, looking more sullen now.

“Probably hurts though,” said Yusuke.

“Not really,” Echizen replied as he tugged his hat back down defiantly and started walking off the court.

Yusuke watched him make it only a few steps before the woman and girl stopped him. The woman gave Yusuke a glare, which he ignored in favor of looking over the kid again. 

He seemed steady enough, a bit more fatigued than he probably should be for being such a tennis genius. 

Yusuke looked up at the clouds rolling above as he listened with one ear to the women fuss over Echizen. He seemed more annoyed than anything else by the attention, so at least that was a personality trait rather than something that was being held against Yusuke. 

Not that it would’ve been the first time that had happened. 

Echizen was putting away his racket, unsuccessfully trying to shoo away the women by just ignoring them. Yusuke waited as the kid shrugged on a jacket and zipped it up. He did some quick mental math of the change in his pocket before he called, “Hey, kid! You thirsty?”

Eerie cat eyes found his, but Yusuke didn't let his grin falter.

The kid looked thoughtful for a moment. The woman and the girl went quiet at the interruption, but didn't say anything.

Finally, the kid agreed. “Sure.”

“Echizen!” the old woman protested. “You don't want to go anywhere with this thug.”

Yusuke might have taken offence (beating up bullies was a public service after all). But on the other hand, he had been called much worse before by people he cared a hell of a lot more about, so he let it slide.

The kid just shrugged, and said, “I didn't get to finish my other drink,” which made the girl with the long braids blush for some reason. 

The kid smirked at Yusuke. “You're buying.”

Yusuke was the one who had offered, so he nodded and headed towards the exit. The kid fell into step beside him, tossing a lackadaisical wave and a farewell over his shoulder at the concerned calls of his name.

They walked to the vending machine in silence.

“What do you want?” Yusuke asked when they got back to the soda machines where he’d first seen the kid. He fished most of his change out of his pocket and fed it into the machine while he waited for the answer. 

“Grape Ponta.”

Yuck. Well, no accounting for taste. Yusuke put in the money and got a grape Ponta for the kid and a Coke-a-Cola for himself. 

Surveying his choices, Yusuke picked a nice spot under a tree to park it. Leaning back against the trunk, Yusuke crossed his arms behind his head and peered up at the younger kid.

Yusuke was surprised when he wasn’t abandoned immediately. Echizen seemed the type to prefer solitude, but Yusuke wasn’t complaining. 

“I’m Yusuke Urameshi,” he introduced himself.

“Ryoma Echizen,” the kid muttered back.

Yusuke squinted at him, the sun was starting to get low in the sky and it peaked out just below the leaves and over the kid’s shoulder. It made his eyes hurt to look at the kid. 

“Where you from, kid?” asked Yusuke, since the kid had shown no recognition at his name, and nearly everyone around here knew him by reputation at least. 

“I just moved back from America.”

That was mostly what Yusuke had figured. The kid’s accent was near non-existent, but Yusuke had always been good at figuring out what people were hiding. It had been sort of a necessity.

“America, huh? Big country. What part?”

“California mostly, New York some. We traveled a lot for my mom’s work,” the kid finally came over to sit, evidently deciding to stay a while. He plopped down on the ground next to Yusuke, but facing away from him so that he could also lean back against the tree.

He really was like a cat. Ignore him, and he would sit just near enough to you so that you knew he was purposefully ignoring you.

“That what brings you back to Japan?” Yusuke asked. 

Echizen hummed a nondescript agreement, and Yusuke let the subject drop. He took another sip of cola and let the clouds roll by for a bit. 

The tennis garden was slowly emptying, the festivities clearly over for the day. Yusuke would have to clear out soon. But he figured the cop had given up at least. He put his jacket back on and pushed his hair back into place. 

“Do you play?” The kid’s question startled him.

“Tennis?” he asked for clarification. Echizen nodded in his peripheral vision. “Nope. I’ve never even watched a match until today.”

“... Really?” the kid sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t imagine an existence without tennis. Considering how much he must practice to get as good as he was, that was probably true.

“Yep. Gotta say, though, you’re something else. I don’t know a thing about tennis and even I can see that. How long have you been playing?”

“Forever. Always.”

“Huh. Like me and brawling I guess...” Yusuke trailed off, considering this. He wondered if Echizen ever had a chance to say no either, or if this life was the one he’d have chosen for himself if he could have anything, or if he’d just grabbed onto whatever was easiest with both hands like Yusuke had. 

“Is that why you hit that guy?” the kid asked. 

Yusuke thought about lying and saying yes. It would probably be better for his reputation as the number one thug of Sariyashki Junior High. But he felt the kids eyes on him and that made him want to tell the truth for once.

“Not really,” he said, because it was certainly part of it. “I didn’t like his style. He hit you.”

“I hit him back.”

“Good,” Yusuke said, because it was. “But other kids your size won’t. He started it, and he could’ve done a hell of a lot more damage with his racket than he did. You got lucky. Gotta nip that shit in the bud before he tries it on someone who can’t or won’t fight back. My experience, that kind of shit only gets worse until someone drives the lesson home.” 

He thought a bit about what he wanted to say next. His mom had run with a pretty rough crowd. The guys she hung with were big and mean and Yusuke had had to toughen up early.

“I hate people who hit kids. It’s a shitty thing to do. Especially over something as pointless as a game,” he finished. He looked the kid straight in the eye as he said it. Those big cat eyes seemed to turn over what he said. 

“He’s a kid too,” Echizen finally said.

Yusuke rolled his eyes before closing them and leaned back against the tree.

“He’s big enough to be an adult. He should fucking act like one and not take out his own lameness on other kids.”

And that, as far as Yusuke was concerned, was that.

Echizen didn’t seem to have much to say about that, but he could practically hear the wheels turning in the kid’s head. 

A thought occurred to Yusuke.

“You were here for the tournament right?” he asked. The kid nodded, and Yusuke snorted and said, “I’m just gonna assume you won it then.”

“No.”

“Wha- really?” Yusuke asked, sitting up.

“I got lost and was five minutes late. Meant I forfeited,” the kid sounded rather miffed by the thought.

“You got lost?” Yusuke’s sense of direction was pretty good. ‘Getting lost’ was not something that happened.

“Twice,” the kid deadpanned, and Yusuke couldn’t help it. He laughed.

The kid glared at him, unamused, so Yusuke tried to stop. When he mostly had it under control, he stood up and offered the kid a hand. 

“C’mon kid. I’ll walk you home. No sense getting lost three times in one day.”

For a second, he thought the kid would decline, sore from being laughed at, but instead he downed the rest of his drink and took Yusuke’s offered hand to haul himself up.

“Where do you live?” Yusuke asked.

“The temple in Block 67,” the kid answered.

“Old man Saito’s place?” he asked, just to clarify. He was reasonably certain that's where Echizen meant. He knew most major landmarks on this half of the city, and certainly well enough to get to them from just about anywhere.

“Yes. He moved to Kyoto to be near his family. My dad is taking care of the temple while he is away.”

Yusuke hadn't known the old man had had any family. It was a shame he’d moved away. He had always been nicer than most to Yusuke, sometimes giving him a meal when he found him sleeping on the temple ground. 

“Huh. That's a bit of a hike. No wonder you got lost.”

“I took the metro.”

“Well, that's just sad then. Isn't the station only a few blocks from here?”

Echizen didn't answer, but pulled the brim of his hat down, which Yusuke took to be a yes. He refrained from laughing again, and shook his head.

“Well, I don't have money for the fare. You up for a walk?” he asked and the kid shrugged. 

They hadn't made it ten blocks before Yusuke felt eyes on him. From the way the kid tensed beside him, he had noticed it too. Yusuke didn't let on that he had noticed, but he took the next corner abruptly enough to catch a glimpse of the same guys from much earlier today stalking them.

Goddammit. Hadn’t these losers had enough for one day? It was only a couple thousand yen, for fuck's sake. Didn't they have anything better to do?

He really didn’t want to get the kid involved in this. 

“Hey, kid?” Yusuke said, keeping his eyes forward as he came to a decision. 

“Hm?”

“How fast can you run? You good for a couple kilometers?” Yusuke asked. 

He thought he could probably lose them, but only if the kid could keep up.

“Hmph. No problem.”

“Good,” Yusuke said, trusting him to know his limits. “On my mark.” he waited until they turned another corner before saying, “Now!”

And they were off. 

Yusuke had spent more time than most people would have believed running. Bus fare was a luxury he could rarely afford and forget about the metro. He had never been able to afford a bike he didn’t temporarily borrow, so if he wanted to get anywhere, hoofing it was the most effective method, which meant running if he was running late. 

The vaulting over fences, railings, and through the occasional hedge row may have been mostly to save time, but it had the added benefit of generally outmaneuvering anyone who was chasing him.

The back handspring over the garbage cans had been mostly showing off though.

For his part, the kid kept up pretty well. Yusuke heard at least a few of their pursuers drop out, either exhausted or caught up in some of the obstacles Yusuke and Echizen vaulted over.

Eventually though, the kid started flagging. The tennis bag over his shoulder was slowing him down, so Yusuke took it off him and threw it over his own shoulder. The kid protested.

“Keep up, then! We've got a ways to go. Move it!”

The weight was pretty negligible to Yusuke, but he could see the lack of it made a significant difference in the kid’s stamina. 

They kept running. 

Between alleys, through a couple yards, even in and out of a restaurant or two. The kid managed to keep up. Barely, but he did. Yusuke was impressed. It was hardly the most punishing pace he had ever set; he was aware that the kid’s legs were well shorter than his. 

Still, it was pretty good for a first timer.

Eventually though, they came up on Yusuke’s turf. There were only two guys behind them now, and Yusuke figured now was as good a time as any. It just wouldn't do to be seen running from anyone in his own territory, so after the next corner, he spun around and tossed the kid his bag back.

“Give me a minute,” he said as he planted his feet in the dirt and got ready.

He heard their footsteps long before they actually made it around the corner. 

Yusuke was ready for them. 

He landed a solid right hook to one guys face and dodged the instinctive gab the other one made with his knife. The guy jabbed again, and Yusuke grabbed at the hand holding the knife as it went by him. He got the wrist. 

Good enough, he thought as he twisted hard. He felt something pop and the guy screamed, dropping his knife. 

Yusuke kicked it away, and caught the other guy under his jaw with an uppercut that sent him flying.

The first guy was back on his feet. He charged at Yusuke, head down and roaring. 

Yusuke’s roundhouse kick hit him in the face as soon as he was in range, laying him flat next to his buddy.

Both guys lay groaning, exhausted and bleeding. They wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. 

Yusuke dusted his hands off and glared down in disgust.

“Well that was lame. You'd have thought they'd put up more of a fight if they were willing to run this far,” he said, and looked over at the kid. 

Echizen, still panting from their run, was staring at him. It wasn’t quite fear, but Yusuke certainly didn’t recognize whatever the hell it was.

“What? Is there something on my face?”

The kid surprised him by nodding as he panted, and gestured to his cheek. Yusuke reached up and felt something wet. Looking down at his fingers, he saw it was blood and wiped it away fully before sticking his bleeding hands into his pockets.

“C’mon kid. We've got a ways to go yet,” he said, before turning to continue strolling down the street like he hadn't left two fully grown men bleeding on the concrete behind him. 

The kid caught up quickly, shrugging his bag over his shoulder once more. He was still gasping a bit, which was a surprise. Yusuke had seen him move on the court. The kid could run with the best of them, but apparently his stamina was shit. 

The sprint hadn't affected Yusuke too much. It was a more regular occurrence than he wanted to admit, and while the kid was fit, they had covered over three kilometers if Yusuke had to guess. That was a lot for an elementary schooler who had already played a round of tennis that day, so Yusuke set a leisurely pace.

By the time they reached block 67, the sun was almost gone from the sky completely, but the kid had mostly stopped panting. 

Yusuke linked his hands behind his head and heaved a sigh as the temple finally came into view. He was now a good ways from home and his stomach was making its displeasure known at him having not eaten that day.

“Last stop on the Yusuke Express. We hope you've enjoyed your walk. Please visit again,” he drawled as he stopped outside the gate. 

Echizen had his hands in his pockets. He was staring at Yusuke, like he was looking for something. 

Yusuke didn't know what it was, so he waited, feeling a little out of his element. 

Nice wasn't something he tried very often anymore. After a long moment, where neither said anything, Yusuke gave up. “Okay well, it was nice to meet ya, kid. Have a nice life,” he said as he turned away to head home.

“Hey.”

The kids voice stopped him. He hadn't said a word since the fight. Yusuke had figured he had freaked him out. He tended to have that effect on people. He looked back to find the kid still staring at him.

“What's up?” he asked.

“... You should come back tomorrow. Show me how you run like that.”

“What?” Yusuke was confused. Running from thugs was hardly a fun way to spend the afternoon.

“You're in better shape than me,” he stated and Yusuke nodded, because this was true. The run had barely fazed him. “The running and the jumping will help my tennis. Tomorrow is Saturday. Do you have anything better to do?”

Honestly, Yusuke could think of a lot of things to do that were better than running all over town for no reason. But the kid was smiling at him, and he supposed the company had been nice. 

“... sure, Kid. I'll come by sometime tomorrow,” he agreed, because why the hell not. Like the kid said, he had nothing better to do.

“Call me Ryoma.”

Yusuke blinked. He had never called anyone other than Keiko by their first name. No one had ever offered.

He smirked.

“Alright, Kid,” he agreed and enjoyed Ryoma's frown of annoyance, “You should get some sleep. And take some painkillers for your headache.”

As he sauntered off, he heard a mutter “... asshole.” before the gate opened and shut. Yusuke smiled and turned his face up to the sky. 

Today hadn't turned out so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So, Kat1132 is a doll who helped me completely rework this for posting. I originally wrote it about three or four years ago, and it still won't leave me alone. 
> 
> If you've managed to wander your way down this rabbit hole with us, please leave us a note on your way out, even if it's just a kudos to know we're not alone XD
> 
> I hope you like it. 
> 
> All my love,  
-Moth
> 
> P.S. This entire series will be genfic. Everyone in these two shows are too young for me to consider relationships.


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